"maybe we can head to the apocalypse again as a little vacation. you know what they say... paradise!"
"i cannot express to you how little i would like to do that."
"stingy fucker."
IN WHICH vincent leblanc, resident french asshole and externally...
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THE PAINFUL OUTLOOK OF DEATH was nothing short of terrifying for Vincent Leblanc. Of course, he never really minded the thought of it much, seeing as death was something he would long for in the middle of the night whilst staring up at the popcorn ceiling. Although, the pain of it all was what scared him. The thought of dying slowly and painfully had always plagued Vincent's mind. The idea that he would most definetly die a painful death.
Vincent was almost positive he would. The powers he withheld stood as a threat not only to others, but himself. He had no doubt in his mind that his death would not be a peaceful one. Would not be one that simply passes by with a flash of light and a euphoric feeling. No, Vincent's death will be slow and bloody. His death will be agonizing, a painful spread throughout his limbs that will burn worse than anything he's ever felt. He does not know when he will die, does not know if that sense of pain ticking throughout his body will ever actually come. Maybe he will die a good death, one that will not feel like he's being torn apart. Maybe it will make him happier, bring him a peace that he has never held.
Vincent laid there, in the motel bed he was staying in as he stared up at the ceiling above him. He thought of these things, of death and what kind he would inevitably go to. If they all saved the world maybe Vincent would live until he's 100 with a happy life and a peaceful death whilst he's in his slumber. Although, he doubted they would ever get that far.
Vincent groaned under his breath. He hated busying himself with these overbearing thoughts that created a deep sense of dread to overtake him and pound on his chest painfully. The thoughts that would make his breathing quicken and his panic heighten to an all time high. He rolled his eyes to himself, standing up on wobbling legs. He didn't have clothes to change into, wearing a black hoodie and a pair of pants cuffed at the ankles. He wore a pair of knee high socks, with little marijuana leaves drawn onto them. They had made him laugh a few months before, so he just had to buy them. His shoes were completely fucked, tearing at the soles, the rubber on the sides peeling off slowly.
Vicnent hadn't bothered to buy many clothes in France. This was mostly what he wore anyway. He stretched his arms above his head lightly, relishing in the satisfying crack of his bones before walking out of the motel room. He made sure to lock it behind him, not particularly wanting to come back to his room to a homeless man lying in the bed.
Vincent didn't know where he'd go to clear his mind. So he merely walked, walked away from the motel to wherever his legs brought him.
He eventually found himself standing in front of a liquor store, a donut shop by the name of "Griddy's Donuts" close by. He supposed he could head there afterwards. Vincent waited outside for a moment, grinning when a man walked out with a bottle of liquor in his hands. Vincent merely bumped his shoulder, muttering a half assed apology before waiting for the man to get into his car and head out.
